


The Garden of Mral

by BellOfWinter



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7660918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellOfWinter/pseuds/BellOfWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being banished from the shire for Belladona’s adventurous streak, Bilbo Baggins and his family are forced to leave their comforts of home to travel the unknown world in search of a place to settle. Unfortunately, Yavanna didn’t smile upon them so kindly, for along the trip Bilbo lost both his parents and was left to fend for himself; but, with a little luck, an old friend  came along and swished him away to a city called Dale. Here Bilbo baggins led the rest of his life, barely scarping by until one evening he came upon an announcement that the Powerful dwarf kingdom, Erebor, was hiring a gardener. Problem was, they wanted a female for the job.<br/>And if there’s one thing Bilbo was always set on, it was survival-even if it meant disguising himself as a female.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginning of the end

**Author's Note:**

> I should note that Bilbo is not 33 yet. He is 17 years old in this chapter and will continue to age of the upcoming chapters, if he seems slightly out of character that's probably the reason why but he shouldn't be that different however you can comment your thoughts about it if you like.

Hobbiton was just beginning to wake, the hobbits inside their smials preparing for first breakfast and attending to their gardens outside, when Bungo Baggins rose from his sleepy caravan.  
Silence filled Bag end, a treasure Bungo built himself for his wife, Belladonna, as a courting gift, and even the tiniest of sounds seemed to echo across the still halls. It usually wasn’t this silent in Bag End, with Bilbo’s occasional soft snores floating around and his dearest beloved shifting and stirring in the bed as she awoke, but neither were here.  
Belladonna, being the Took she was, had an adventurous appetite and, after years of spending her time in the shire from raising their son, she hungered to travel again. Deciding that she would voyage to one of her most favorable locations, Rivendell, she had raced into action by packing up the items that she would need for the journey and planning out how long she would be gone. However, this time Belladonna did not journey the paths to Rivendell alone.  
Bilbo, after growing up hearing of his mother’s tales, wished nothing more than to venture out in the world with his mother; although his mother was easily persuaded in allowing him to go, Bungo was more reluctant, especially since Bilbo was still just a mere seventeen year old hobbit. . It felt like years of pleading and persuasion before Bungo finally, with hesitance, agreed to let both his son and wife brave the expedition together.  
Belladonna and Bilbo had set out late in the afternoon of that day with their goods carefully wrapped and a wagon pulled by one of their most beloved pony, Myrtle; along with food and a wagon, they also packed weapons in case of emergencies: a sword for Belladonna and a small dagger for Bilbo. Bungo hadn’t known how long he had stood by the gates of Bag End as he watched the direction in which his family travelled in, but when he did finally break from his trance, the sky had been shining bright with white-ish yellow stars that plastered themselves on the black blanket covering the sky; and, after he sent one last glance towards the path his wife and child trekked, he had turned and fled back into the warmth and comforts of a silent and lonely smial.  
As the days flew by and turned into months, the end date for Belladonna’s and Bilbo’s adventure quickly approached like silent predators until, at long last, the day of their return arrived.  
Hurrying to get out of bed, Bungo, possessed with frenzied happiness at the prospect of seeing his family once more, dressed well for the day. There was much to get done today, and although Bungo still has a few hours remaining before his wife and son return, Bungo wants everything to go perfectly; so, tip-toeing out his room, he began the long day ahead of him with a sunny smile and cheery tone.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The sun lovingly caresses the open field and cobbled road, that Belladonna sails over with her darling boy, Bilbo, behind her, with it’s bright, white light. Crisp summer air swishes through the grassy plain, commanding the grass to sway which way the breeze wants, while sending a little chill to Belladonna, whom was riding upon the back of Myrtle. Belladonna shivers slightly before releasing a heavy huff and chuckling.  
“The wind certainly is blowing today!” The Took exclaims as a smile graces her face while she maintains her attention on the road.  
When no reply is heard, she turns her head towards the area south of her to see Bilbo absorbed in the tome given to him by one of the elven princes. Belladonna feels the smile on her cheery face grow when she notices how content and peaceful her son is as he concentrates on the tome full of Sindarin language.  
“He sure does enjoy his book,” Belladonna silently acknowledges with a fond grin. Suddenly, Bilbo snaps his gaze away from what he was reading and looks towards his mother, who was fondly gazing at him with hints of amusement coloring her stare. Bilbo sheepishly rubs the back of his head.  
“Staring isn’t respectable, mother,” He teases as he tries to direct her attention away from the blush on his face.  
Belladonna roars with laughter, and her body trembles and sways with the musical sound.  
“And since when, my dear Bilbo, have I ever been a respectable hobbit?” She inquires as a mischievous grin grows over her lips; the hobbit in question stutters for an answer.  
“I-well I suppose in the eyes of other hobbits, never,” Bilbo finally replies in a cold distasteful tone.  
He never liked or approved of those rumors about his mother; being free-spirited and unconventional shouldn’t make you an outcast to your own kind, but, as it seems, that is the way of hobbits in Hobbiton.  
Belladonna can hear the clear disapproval in his voice, not that Bilbo tries to disguise it, and immediately frowns at her son’s tone; her darling Bilbo, the one she knew, should be cheery, bright, and full of sunshine-not cold or hateful. Swirling her attention back towards the way they were moving, Belladonna takes a moment to survey her surroundings.  
“Well, I think as long as I have you and your father, then that’s all I’ll ever need. Even if my entire kin thinks me to be some crazy, foolish woman gone mad, I’d be happy because I have you two by my side.” Belladonna states in response to her Bilbo’s words; she doesn’t have to look back to know Bilbo was once more engrossed in his book, as his silence was the only clue she needed to know what he was doing.  
A few minutes pass before shuffling quietly sings through the quiet air. Belladonna would’ve looked behind her had she not already known whom it was when Bilbo placed his hand on her shoulder; turning her head, Bilbo’s face and warm smile greet her.  
“And you’re all I’ll ever need, mother,” Bilbo whispers with such love it made the beautiful sunset occurring in the sky seem desolate in comparison.  
The two shared a mutual smile before resuming their original positions. All along the way to Hobbiton, they conversed (mostly Belladonna) and murmured (mostly Bilbo) amongst themselves about the trip and how happy they were to be returning home.  
Unbeknownst to the trio traversing the cobblestone pathway leading to Hobbiton, two pairs of gleaming, ravenous eyes had set their sights on them and were waiting in the growing black shadows for just the right time to pounce.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Afternoon Tea had just finished when Bilbo and Belladonna peek their heads into Hobbiton at last. Rounding corners and waving their pleasures at the hobbits who dare to acknowledge them, they navigate their way towards Bag End, which was thankfully in sight, and finally breathe a sigh of relief that neither seemed to remember holding.  
Myrtle drags the wagon up the hill to Bag End, and Bilbo takes the moment to straighten his hunched back and stretch out, allowing his blood to circulate through his limbs once more; and, as he stretches out in the wagon he’d be sitting in for most of the excursion, Belladonna slows the pony down until it reached a complete stop at Bag End’s gate. Having been waiting for them outside, Bungo immediately hops to his feet from his position on the stone bench when his beloved wife and son slip out of their ride and glide up to greet him.  
Everyone was ecstatic to see one another again, if their smiles that were as wide as the Brandywine River and hugs warmer than the sun’s rays weren’t already enough to tell. After the small reunion, the family each pitched in a hand to help unload the wagon of Belladonna’s and Bilbo’s belongings and settled the pony into one of the stables in the Shire. 

All that needs to be done is done, so Bilbo trotted up to the door of Bag End and relished in the familiarity his home provided. Although he loved the adventure and enjoyed the opportunities it presented, he had dearly missed Bad End; and, the thought of savoring his home pleases him greatly. Bilbo walked through the o shaped halls of Bag End towards his own room, and once inside he places the precious gift onto his own little desk besides his bed and rummages around his closet to find clean clothes that would be just right after he bathed.  
Meanwhile, Belladonna and Bungo were sitting at the round table near the window that looked out on the front lawn of their smial, chatting to each other about the journey and drinking soothing hot tea with a few biscuits on a plate in the middle of the two. Belladonna sipped at her tea and breathed in the comforts of Bag end.

“I think that, my dear Bungo, that transit was exactly what I needed. You could have already told but the years of ordinary routine just weighed down on me; I wanted to tour the outside world just once more before I truly settled. This time, though, I got to bask in the memory with my own son, whom you should know was also very taken with Rivendell and its residents. The elves loved him for his manners, no doubt from your side, and during our stay, one of the lord princes even taught him most of their language, Sindarin. A beautiful language, both you and I can agree. The idea of learning Sindarin enthralled Bilbo, so he regularly took lessons over the course of our time there; but, when it became time to leave, Bilbo was gifted a tome of the language so he’d be able to practice while he was not there.” Belladonna narrated, plucking a biscuit from the plate and slowly chewing on it.

Just then, Bilbo came whisked into the confined area Belladonna and Bungo rested. Bilbo was dressed in rather comfy clothes, a white shirt that snugged his body with gray-ish brown shorts, and his curls were as wild as ever since he didn’t put too much effort into combing them. Bilbo’s eyes seemed to shine with delight, giving off a pleasant demeanor about him and it made his parents feel sunny inside to see their son so content and happy. Bilbo skedaddled to the circular table that housed his family, before being handed a cup of tea and settled himself down with two biscuits of his own.

“Your mother has been voicing so much about the trip Bilbo. I’m afraid she might be so swooned, she’ll leave for another journey!” Bungo slightly teased, looking at his wife’s chuckling face.

“Now, that wouldn’t be any good at all.” Bilbo shot back, nibbling away at his biscuit whilst turning towards his mother with a small smile 

Belladonna prided herself from her high spirited attitude and laughed from the teasing remarks of her beloveds. 

“Would you, Bilbo, have any stories to share of your very first venture? Bungo insisted

Brightening up at this, Bilbo spoke of the beautiful scenery of Rivendell and the residents that resided in one of the last homely homes.  
“I could have never imagined such a place to exist. The waterfalls that surrounded the house on its front mixed in with rebirthing air around it, creating an extricate smell and adding onto the wonderful life built around me. They even had a garden! It was... out of this world father. What picked my curiosity more were the elves. Graceful and elegant, their beauty truly is nothing short of amazing; but, they were also kind and understanding, if a bit on the teasing side.” Bilbo mumbled the last few words, loud enough for Belladonna to hear and her face grew into a snicker.

Belladonna and Bilbo then re-collected their thoughts, opening to the beginning of the journey and each telling their own accounts on the way. Bungo listened, his arms placed to rest upon the table and his hands cupping the now cool tea, while both of them delivered their own set of stories that sometimes ended up in a quarrel of laughter or teasing. Internally, Bungo sighed to himself. He missed having his family away all these months; to have them come back with not only pleasurable memories but happiness in their hearts made Bungo light up with delight and he thanked Yavanna a million times that she had safely brung them home. Bungo was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear what words Belladonna communicated next. 

“Wha-What!?!?!” Bungo choked out

“Our dear Bilbo is absolutely fascinated with the lord princes, if you know what I mean.” Belladonna joked about, grin turning to rival that of the Cheshire cat

Bilbo merely sighed, having gotten used to his mother’s antics and pinched the bridge of his nose. Chugging slowly at his tea, Bilbo’s face had still been stained with pink from the rising embarrassment of the conversation 

“It is not like that.” Bilbo rebutted, trying hard to sound confident

Bungo paled, eyes wide with horror of the prospect Belladonna was providing but relieved at Bilbo’s rebuttal. 

“Oh, but isn’t it?” Belladonna uttered again, leaning her head to rest on her hand raised by her elbow. 

Bilbo started to run his hand through his curls in frustrating embarrassment (that is entirely his mother’s fault!). Bungo could see Bilbo wanted to get out of the conversation, so he quickly added himself to their chat.

“Belladonna, don’t go teasing the poor boy to death. Are there any other topics to turn to rather than speak of his… interest in the lord elven prince?” Bungo whispered softly.

“I- no, no, no, it’s-“Bilbo’s protest was interrupted when a knock came at Bag End’s door.

Bungo rose from his seat, Belladonna and Bilbo waiting at the table, and walked from the little area to the front door of their smial. Bungo reached out his hand, wheeled the door knob open, and retracted the door to catch a glimpse of who was at the door early in the night. Whence able to view just whom was at the door, Bungo’s eyes went wide of curiosity at his neighbor’s figure and Bungo had a feeling something wasn’t quite right. Their neighbor was angling his head towards his south, east, and west all the while fidgeting in his place as if something dire was happening. 

“If I may, what are you doing here at such an hour, neighbor?” Bungo asked.

“The-there a-are...” He sputtered, swallowing and trying to form the words that failed to fall from his lips.

“ “There are,” what?” Bung ushered politely, not wanting to frighten him anymore; worry began to spread through every part of Bungo. Something definitely was not right.

“There are wolves near Hobbition,” His neighbor shouted out in a quick spur.

Bilbo, having followed his father to the door and heard the outcry, froze where he stood and felt his blood run cold.


	2. Hungry eyes and a dark surprise

Bilbo was petrified; fear courses through every vein and blood cell, clogging up the flow and reducing him to nothing more than a pile of rubble. If it seemed that the ground had just swallowed Bilbo whole, it would indeed be the case. Lost in the dangerous reality his neighbor has just announced, Bilbo continues to burn holes in the ground and disguises himself as a mere statue until Belladonna shakes her son out of his trance and grabs a hold of his lean shoulders. 

“Bilbo. Bilbo, you have to listen to me carefully,” Belladonna’s tone is smothered in urgency, further strengthening the reality of the dilemma they, and the rest of Hobbiton, were in. 

“You and Bungo must stay here in Bag End, and I will go out with others to check whether or not it is safe. While I’m away, be as quiet as you can, turn out the lights, and bar the door. I’ll knock twice to announce my return,” Belladonna coolly explains the action plan, and, although her tone is not demanding or forceful, there is a heavy seriousness weighing upon her spoken words; and, Bilbo instantly knows it is in his father’s and his best interest to heed every crucial word.

Belladonna straightens up from where she had been crouching, maintaining eye contact with her son, before pacing towards the master bedroom of Bag End. It is only when Belladonna disappears from sight does Bungo breaks out of his shock, casting nervous glances towards the front door of Bag End, which was now shut, and Bilbo’s fluctuating posture a few spaces besides him; and, when Bungo notices his wife’s missing presence, it doesn’t take him long to realize the actions his wife was planning to execute.  
Bungo would’ve protested against her actions, but Belladonna was already making her way to the front door of Bag End, covered for the cool summer night with her sword, which was positioned in her sheath strapped around her waist, ready at her left side like a warrior marching to battle; and, as if reinforcing the image, Belladonna’s fingers were tightly gripping the hilt of her weapon. Bungo, using his body as a shield, quickly blocks the path between Belladonna and the door knob, effectively denying her any chances of pursuing her disastrous idea.  
‘I am not letting my wife go through with this plan,’ Bungo silently resolves.  
Belladonna observes everything her beloved tries to do to contain her within Bag End, no doubt for her safety, but, she could not bear to think about the possibility of what would happen if there were, indeed, wolves in the Shire. Even if it means risking her life, Belladonna will do anything to protect the ones she cares most for; so, after Bungo was finished with his desperate attempts to withhold his wife, Belladonna releases a heavy sigh and frowns at her husband.

“Bungo,” Belladonna begins in a soft, determined voice as she locks eyes with her love and inches forward. “I have to do this. You know that as well as I.” 

“I….” Bungo’s words and voice were lost as a battlefield erupts inside him, one that completely destroys all forms of communication. In his mind, he knows his wife is right; but, he doesn’t want her life to be endangered if such news was really the case. 

Bungo, however, is not the only one with racing thoughts on the matter: Bilbo, still rooted in the same designated spot besides his father, is contemplating the grim perils both Hobbiton and his mother, should she leave the safety of Bag End, currently face; but, this time, he’s more aware of the situation at hand.  
Bungo glances toward Bilbo but soon swirls his gaze back towards Belladonna; his body is still fighting to keep her inside, yet his mind is ready to give in. A showdown is seemingly taking place without anyone noticing, as Belladonna and Bungo maintain their eye connection until Bungo deflates, slinks against the wall closest to the front door of Bag End, and finally clears Belladonna’s path.  
Like Bungo, Bilbo doesn’t know what to do either, so he helps his father against the wall and lets his mother face what lays behind Bag End’s door. Before she leaves, Belladonna gives her son one last nod, whom immediately returns the gesture, and steps out the door and into the eerily silent night.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
There are other hobbits grouped under the great tree centered in the middle of Hobbiton; since Bag End has an extraordinarily clear view of the town, Belladonna can easily make out the crowd beneath the tree and rushes down the hill towards those gathered in order to obtain more news of what was happening. Belladonna stumbles a few times, tripping over rocks covered by the still, high grass of Hobbiton, but it wasn’t just the rocky steep leading up to Bag End that made her stumble so.  
Belladonna would never admit it, but she was secretly afraid: afraid of all that could go wrong, and afraid of whether or not she’d be able to do anything at all; but, Belladonna would not let fear stop her from trying, so she pushed herself forward and fought her demons with courage. It only took a few moments before Belladonna reaches the horde and is shoved straight into the dire news. 

“They say they’re huge! They say they’ve got teeth sharp as razors and claws bigger than our feet! And their eyes! They say their eyes are blazing with hunger!” One hobbit amongst the group chatted out in an anxious, quiet voice.

“Enough of your nonsense now,” Another one from the group retorts before continuing. “What I want to know is what are wolves doing in the Shire?”  
The mass grows silent when the hobbit voices the question plaguing all of their minds before breaking out in a house of whispers, each hobbit adding their own thoughts as why wolves would be in the Shire. 

The implications being thrown out were getting more ridiculous by the hour and Belladonna, whom would’ve laughed at such musing if not for the problem at hand, found herself growing more irritated by the hour; so, she thanks Yavanna when someone shouts about wolves, which effectively hushes all the speculations. The young hobbit lad runs as fast as he can, flailing his arms about in frantic, frenzied movements; and, when he stumbles upon the party of people, he hunches over in a bow and places both of his hands on top of his knees as he catches his breath. Once he manages to replenish his oxygen level, he straightens himself and directs his attention to the group. 

“The wolves have been spotted near Hobbiton, but it seems as if they do not plan on attacking tonight,” Though not done speaking, the speaker watches as relief floods over each hobbit’s face and urges on.  
“However, the Thaín believes it is best if we all stay in our smials for tonight and be on guard. The situation about the wolves will all be cleared up tomorrow morning,” Once he had delivered his message, the hobbit began walking back towards his smial and the congregation followed suit, each returning to their own smial. 

Belladonna turns and dashes towards Bag End after she heard what the young hobbit had to say; she was grateful that nothing serious had or was about to happen, but she still had to remain vigilante and prepare for the long night ahead.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
While Belladonna had been away, Bungo and Bilbo escaped into the master bedroom with tea and waited out the remainder of their time. They tried to talk about things they loved to ease their worried hearts but to no avail; and, alas, they decided to settle with drinking their tea while combing through their racing thoughts. The silence fills the room, suffocating both Bilbo and Bungo in the process, but neither dare to speak-until they hear two knocks resonate through the smile from Bag End’s front door.  
Bolting up from his position on the bed, Bilbo trains through the door of their room and through halls of Bag End, followed closely by Bungo, before stopping his pursuit when he arrives at front door of their smial. Grabbing the cold-worn knob, Bilbo opens the door to be met with the sight of his mother’s stout yet slim figure; relief courses through every bit of both Bungo’s and Bilbo’s heart. Bilbo quickly invites his mother in, assisting Belladonna in taking off her coat as she scoots in the smial. The trio stand together in silence as they scan their eyes over each other before Bilbo breaks the silence.  
“What of the wolves, mother?” He inquires, curiosity cloaking his tone as he begins shutting the door.  
Belladonna moves from her spot and licks her chapped lips. 

“The wolves do not seem to be intent on attacking Hobbiton, but the Thaín believes it’s best if we remain on guard and in our smials,” She takes a breath after answering her son’s question before walking towards the kitchen for tea as she advances her speech. “Hopefully, everything will be handled tomorrow morning.”

Bungo and Bilbo share a look before following Belladonna. Belladonna, whom had gotten her tea and was sipping from the cup at the dining table, gestures for both of them to take a seat next to her and obliged they did, wanting to further proceed on the news of their no longer threatening crisis; she clicks her tongue, and both Bungo and Bilbo observe her intensely. Taking one last drink from her tea, Belladonna speaks up and renews the conversation.

“I do not know why the wolves would come near Hobbiton so soon; usually, they aren’t this close until winter comes around,” Belladonna taps her fingers against the wooden table, as if to soothe her thoughts, and quickly resumes where she left off. “However, I’m relieved to know no one is in danger; still, I have a funny feeling about all this, and it’s not a good one.” 

The last part of her words seem to hang in the air, cutting fear back into their hearts like a knife. Bilbo swallows the lump building up in his throat and, with shaky hands, drank his tea before he readied himself to ask the questions knawing at the far end of his mind. 

“Wh- what do you think has lead them to come here before their usual arrival?” Bilbo turns his head and gazes Belladonna down after releasing one of the many questions stored in his head.  
Belladonna hunches over in her chair and breathes out a sigh; she shoots quick glances in Bungo’s and Bilbo’s direction before answering the question given. “I couldn’t say, my dear Bilbo. May be their food source is running out faster than we expected, or, perhaps, someone has led them to us.” 

Neither options Belladonna voiced pleases the trio in Bag End; the latter possibility, especially, conjures extreme terror within their souls and each immediately throw away the thought. Bungo, whom was listening intently to all the words his wife spoke, pinches the bridge of his nose before cupping his face with his hands. He lets out a shakybreath, drinks his bitter tea, and collects his thoughts. Soon after organizing himself, Bungo expresses a question of his own.

“Do you know exactly how many wolves there are?” Bungo’s tone was soft but loud enough for everyone to hear his inquiry. Four pairs of eyes fall upon Bungo, search him for an answer, before averting away when Belladonna answers.

“I was not told of how many there were, but I do not believe it is a whole pack,” Belladonna moves on to further note her belief on the matter. “I think it may be a few lone wolves scattered around the area.” 

Although worry is still etched into their beings from what previously occurred, the family elects to divert their subject to something else and leave their queries buried deep into the dark parts of their mind. Only an hour or so had passed when their conversation comes to a halt; they clean up the dining table, and Bilbo, guided by his parents, saunters to the door of his room and bid Belladonna and Bungo a good-night before strolling in and shutting the door behind him.  
The smiles that graced their face when whispering their own good-night to their son faded and they locked eyes, each pair reflecting the same concern as the other pair, with each other before heading to the master bedroom of the smial.  
Everyone was thinking one thing when curling up in bed: This is going to be a restless night.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
No one in Bag End or the Shire got much rest that twilight-Bilbo especially. He had tossed and turned in his balmy sheets all through the dead of night, for the anxiety of the night dilemma was still fresh in his mind. When sunlight finally streams through the curtains of his room, signaling the welcoming return of morning, Bilbo feels relief wash over him before he relaxes underneath the gentle weight of the blankets covering his bed. Soon, Bilbo feels the exhaustion from the night’s struggle dissipate as he drifts off into a cozy sleep.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
What awakes Bilbo is not the blowing of the tea kettle on the stove, from which his parents had placed to begin afternoon tea, but rather it’s the forceful bashing of hands on the front door of Bag End. Startling from his dreamy state, Bilbo rolls out of his comfortable coffin and slips out of his night shirt and arranges himself in a yellow floral patterned waist-coat and a white satin short-sleeved blouse that was matched with shorts, ones that snuggles his hips, reaching to his knees.  
Checking his appearance in the stand mirror by the drawers, Bilbo messes around a bit with his curls before he marches out of his room and briskly walks towards the front door of Bag End. Bungo and Belladonna had already gotten to the door and were now conversing to, what Bilbo believed, was a relative; not yet noticed by his parents, he slowly tip-toes over to the commotion, crouches down, and squints through the crack between his parents bodies to be met with the sight of the Thaín himself.  
Bilbo was mildly surprised to see the Old Took here, but he silences his thoughts and quiets his breathing as he hears words being transferred to each individual; he was curious as to what they were talking about and wanted to listen, but his mind, opposed to the idea of eavesdropping on their chat, repeated over and over how it wasn’t what a respectable hobbit would do. Bilbo’s curiosity finally won out and he observes the conference going on behind the wall connecting to Bungo’s studies. 

“But, this is-is simply preposterous!” Belladonna shouts. “Just because I’m an odd hobbit doesn’t mean I’m some bad omen to have around; those wolves were not our fault!”  
Bilbo freezes when those words left his mother’s mouth.  
‘Are people blaming mother for the early appearance of the wolves?’ Horrified at his thoughts, Bilbo scowls in outrage before quickly returning to his parents’ and the Thaín’s conversation when he hears the Thaín’s voice.

“I know, my dear, I know,” The Thaín nervously fidgets with his hands and when he opens his mouth to say more, he snaps it shut when the words failed to roll off his tongue. Sighing, the Thaín sympathetically looks at both Bungo and Belladonna before commencing to where he left off. “However, you must understand it’s oddly coincidental that these wolves suddenly came forth on the very day of your return to Bag End. Now, maybe you had no intention of attracting such danger, but, in the end, you put the Shire and its people at risk. That is something I cannot allow to go unpunished.”  
By the end of his sentence, the Thaín is assertively standing tall with a cool, stoic expressing masking his face; but, gleaming within the depths of his eyes was a sea of sorrow in his eyes as he continued.  
“I’m sorry to say this, Bella,” The tinge of melancholy hollowing his tone was the only clue Bilbo had of the remorse the Thaín was experiencing. “but, I must ask you to leave the Shire-for good.” 

For a moment, Bilbo forgets how to breathe. Did the Thaín just really ask them to leave Hobbiton? To leave the warmth of their home all because of speculations that Belladonna somehow caused the wolves to appear? Bilbo never hears what his parents say next, and he doesn’t give them a chance to; for, he immediately released a thundering scream and reveales the secrecy of his presence to the occupants in the room.

“WHAT!?!” His parents whirl around and the three hobbits at the door stare dumb-founded at Bilbo’s ashen face. Silence was floating through the air, but, internally, Bilbo was any thing but silent: He wants to scream and let out all his anger and sadness, but he contains himself and applies a stoic, lethal aura to his posture while his parents look between themselves as if to see who would break first the quiet first. Neither of them did it, for it was the Thaín who broke the silence and attempted to reassure Bilbo’s broken heart. 

“Bilbo, I know this is hard, but it is for the best,” The Thaín solemnly whispers. Had Bilbo not been part Baggins, he would’ve retorted with the most venom he could have mustered, but Baggins he was, so he chose to bite his tongue and let the Thaín conjure up the last bit of his words.

“We will do the utmost to help you prepare to leave the Shire. A wagon for the belongings you wish to take with you, a pony of your choice, goods freshly baked, and a few bits of coins so you don’t have to sleep outside,” With each passing word, the Thaín’s voice was cracking into sorrowful fits until Bilbo could barely make out the last letters of his dialogue. Bilbo knew, despite how clouded he was from rage and sorrow, that the Thaín didn’t want to do this; so, he lets his body relax and fixes his harsh stare into that of a somber frown. 

Belladonna and Bungo, now sensing that their son was calming down, strolls over to him. Belladonna caresses Bilbo’s pale cheek with her icy hands as they both gaze down at him with a wistful smile painted on both of their faces; they both understood how their son was feeling, as the duo had been heartbroken themselves when the Thaín relayed them of their fate. Bag End was their home, and now they were being forced to leave everything they created behind for the outside world that only Belladonna really knew about; but, even so, Belladonna never would have imagined herself to be living beyond the borders of the Shire. Now, however, she and her family have no other choice than to brave the unknown.  
The Thaín inspects the trio, melancholy still tainting his eyes, and bid them a good afternoon before turning on his heels and heading down the steps of Bag End. The Thaín’s departure gives Bilbo the permission to release his control over his emotions, and soon, hot tears stream down his cheeks like a waterfall; he drops to his knees and begins to mourn over their bad luck. Luck, the thought of that makes Bilbo smile pathetically and rewind to the word’s his mother had shouted to the Thaín. 

‘Perhaps,’ Bilbo silently conceds. ‘we are a bad omen.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one and two have been beta's for so long but I didn't have the account at the time to post them so here they are! I hope you are enjoying the story and criticism is accepted, Id love to hear your thoughts on it as well as better ways to improve the quality of the fanfiction.
> 
> Leave kudos or a comment if you like (I know I would like it if you did, authors thriiive on those '3'/)


	3. Home is where the heart is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: for the thain, I don't know what sort of connection he has to belladonna other than being a relative of hers.  
> Is he her father or grandfather? if anyone of you know, please post it in the comment so I can correctly identify him. '3'
> 
> thank you and enjoy!

Bilbo lays in bed, his energy drained by the events of the day, and dances around with the thoughts that haunt him. The arrival of wolves had frightened him to the bone, and his mind had never once wavered from the hazards that could have taken place even when the issue of wolves being sighted near the Shire became a minor problem for Bilbo and his family; but, just as Bilbo had finally returned to his old cheery character and accepted the presence of danger, the world threw the most life-shattering disaster right in his face: Bungo, Belladonna, and Bilbo would have to leave the Shire-their esteemed home, the very one his parents and himself grew up in, and the place that held many cherished memories and just as many dear friends.  
The home they’d have to give up as a result of unjust suspicions.  
What worsened the already horrific nightmare was that, in the process, Bag End, their prized smial, would be extracted from them; and, at such reminders, tears begin streaming down Bilbo’s once-colored cheeks. The stream of water became a downpour of tears that soaked his ashen cheeks and puffed his eyes when he wallowed in the distressing realization of what was to come.  
Bilbo knew that the hardest of this all was not the farewells to his relatives-after all, his family could always write to them from where they chose to stay-nor was it the inevitable, final departure from the Shire; but, rather, the hardest part of the entire situation was walking away from Bag End and knowing they could never again return to this smial-to their smial.  
Turning onto his side, Bilbo pushes his legs up towards his chest and wraps his arms around them in a comforting way. The downpour had concluded and left Bilbo to curl into himself and listen to the cruel silence loudly playing inside his room; however, it did not take long for Bilbo to establish that he had just about enough of the mocking silence as he lifts his body from the mattress of the bed and slowly walks towards the door that connected his room to the outside halls.  
Bilbo’s hoping a bit of fresh air from the outside world, along with a view of their garden in the backyard, will help to distract him, but as he wanders through the halls of Bag End, Bilbo feels a rush of mixed emotions wash over him once more that leaves him stranded in the middle of a corridor. Forcing himself to move forward, Bilbo uses the wall next to him for support and stops when he rounds a corner into an open pathway leading to the front door of Bag End; his right side softly leans against the wooden wall before Bilbo crumbles to the ground in despair.  
Reminders of a time long ago completely consumes Bilbo’s thoughts as the familiar sensation of hot stinging tears arise to rain down upon his face, but he quickly blinks the water in his eyes away while lounging against the wall with that dreadful silence not far behind. Bilbo rapidly checks over his surrounding, taking in all of Bag End before he notices the living room area positioned to his left; Bilbo’s eyes linger upon the designated territory for what seems like hours before another sudden and unexpected memory, one that surprises him, is brought forth.  
A very fond memory that Bilbo always held close to his heart.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Flashback  
It was a wintery afternoon. Snow covered the ground and wisped through the air, sending a chill up each hobbit’s spine whom dared to venture out on this frosty day. Thankfully, Bilbo was inside Bag End covered in a warm woolen blanket, etched with the stars of the night sky and colored a dark blue, while snuggled between his mother’s arms that were loosely clasped around him.  
Belladonna softly hummed a lullaby, one that her own mother had sung to her to ease her fears, and filled the living room with a serenity that almost lulled Bilbo to sleep; but, he stubbornly resisted the temptation of sleep until he had heard the whole lullaby. It made little Bilbo curious when his mother swiftly halted in her humming as she peered down at him from his place on her lap; she was lovingly staring at his small figure, and, before he could question why she had stopped her humming, Belladonna’s mouth curved into a smile as she softly whispered his name.

“Would you like me to read you a story?” Her voice was angelic, like music to Bilbo’s ears, and he vehemently nodded his head. If there was one thing Bilbo adored more than his mother’s stories of her adventures, it was the fairytale books from his father’s studies.

“Well, then,” She paused her sentence, picking Bilbo up while she laid the blanket down on the chair she rested in before strolling out the comfy room and hastily turning the corner only to be greeted by the door of Bungo’s studies. 

Once inside, Belladonna continued to hold Bilbo, who was now being rocked soothingly in her arms at each step she took, and began to finish up her train of thought from before. 

“You can pick whichever book you wish to read; I’ll walk around the shelves, and you just point at the book of your choosing, alright?” Bilbo nodded his head slowly, blinking his eyes that shoned with joy at having to get to choose the book; Belladonna started to pace besides the book shelves, stopping every now and then for Bilbo to inspect the books in front of him before moving onto the next batch once Bilbo resigned his eyes to his mother while shaking his head to signal he had not yet found the book he wanted to listen to.

A few book shelves in and what felt like miles of space covered, Bilbo finally quirked up at a rather dusty but thick book consisting of an old fashioned hardcover and designed with intricate patterns on the sides. Bilbo pointed his skinny index finger at the book, and Belladonna shifted Bilbo to lay abed on her right side as she used her left hand to bring down the book that was placed on a shelf just above her mass of curls.  
After plucking the book from the brown-stained wooden shelf, Belladonna displayed the book to both herself and her son and read the title of Bilbo’s story out loud; except, it became apparent to the duo that it wasn’t a story at all, but rather a tome on all things associated with gardening. Belladonna chuckled softly to herself before turning her attention on to her dear Bilbo, whom seemed interested in the object gripped by her hand; reaching out his hand that loosened its hold on the top half of his mother’s dress, little Bilbo skimmed his hands over the rough cover of the book and constantly went back over the flowers plastered on the tome’s cover.  
Belladonna fondly watched as her son’s curiosity grew with each passing second of examining the guide in front of him, and, when Bilbo finally tore his concentration away from the book, he turned pleading emerald eyes on to his mother that Belladonna found oh so hard to say no to-not that she would have anyway. Determined to read the book her dear Bilbo was captivated by, Belladonna kept ahold of the book in her left hand and pushed softly on Bilbo’s back to safely capture him in place as she made her way out of her beloved’s studies and returned to the living room.  
The room was lit by the fire burning in the fire place, which cracked a few times from the dissolving log, and the glare of the light gave each object in the living area a shadow of their own. Snowflakes flurried outside the circular window situated upon rows of cabinet dressers that aligned the far end wall.  
All was tranquil in the space around them.  
Bungo, who must’ve treaded in while Belladonna and Bilbo were searching for a book to read, was now relaxing himself in the chair facing the fire; he twisted his head and acknowledged their presence with a bright smile before coursing his eyes towards the book in Belladonna’s pale hand. He felt his lips twitch in amusement and excitement. 

“So, what are you two up to reading a guide tome for gardening?” Bungo watched as Belladonna swiftly made her way to the chair opposite him and assumed her original position, with Bilbo curled up in her arms while the blanket draped over her knees and covered Bilbo from neck to toe. She had already set the old pamphlet down on the ordinary yet valued round table in the center of the trio, and, once she completed the task of getting comfortable, Belladonna toke ahold of the book and began to open up the first page of the tome.

“Our dear Bilbo was marveled by the album at first sight, and, although I haven’t too much experience with gardening as you, I couldn’t say no to his pleading expression,” Belladonna’s voice was soothing and even, and fondness danced throughout her tone as she reflected back on the persuasive actions Bilbo performed to get her to read him the booklet’s contents. 

Bungo’s face blossomed with jubilation at his wife’s words, and he felt pride swell up inside him at their son’s interest in gardening-a sensation he had also experienced when he was younger and learning about gardening for the first time; Belladonna continued to flip through the pages of the index and finally came upon the beginning chapter of the manual that introduced the topic of gardening; Bilbo listened intently as his mother read the words from the book and found himself even more enraptured by the different kinds of herbs, flowers, and vegetables that could be planted in a garden with the right requirements.  
Bungo, being a gardener himself, had knowledge on this particular subject and helped clarify items or actions that seemed to confuse Belladonna and Bilbo. The family had spent the rest of that cold-winter afternoon sharing the peculiar language of flowers, the types of floral plants, and the ways of gardening before Bilbo drifted off into a dream state where he was basking in a garden of his own.  
End of Flashback  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Bilbo, his thoughts returning to the present, sputters out a shaky breath and slumps further into himself with his back pressed against the cold wall before noticing the sticky wetness of tear stains on his flushed cheeks. Realization hits Bilbo on the head: he had been crying when recalling the moment he had grown so fond and so experienced with gardening; but, there is something different about these tears compared to the last set. This time, Bilbo is not mulling over their losing of Bag End, but he is, instead, overwhelmed by glee. He still has these beloved memories fresh in his heart, and, Bilbo knows, no matter how hard their journey ahead would be, he will never forget all he had experienced while growing up in Bag End.  
Courage sprouts inside Bilbo like a flower, bestowing him the strength to pick his once limp body from the floor and straighten himself up; after attempting and a failing a few times, Bilbo re-collects himself and, instead of pursuing his earlier goals, he slowly scampers back towards the direction of his room to begin packing up the items he would be taking with him for his exit from the Shire.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Bungo and Belladonna were not fairing any better than their son had been. After the Thaín’s visit, the constructive pillar of strength they had built came crashing down on them like a series of dominoes and left them both with a shallow emptiness that hallowed their cores.  
Belladonna was enraged; she couldn’t begin to understand why her father would ever throw his own family out of the Shire for rumored speculations, let alone with so little proof of their involvement other than the theory that her adventurous character was a curse to have around.  
Belladonna doesn’t hold back the snort that presented itself when reflecting on the excuse (which Belladonna believed to be the most pitiful one yet). Belladonna fiddles with the needled thread in her rattled hands, violently trying to sew back on a button that tore off of the lovely jacket-coat she wore on chilly days; and, after a multitude of trials & errors, she smacks the attire down and gives up on the notion entirely.  
Belladonna, irritation still ablaze in her eyes, runs her fingers through the black curls nestled in her long hair to soothe herself before a breathy sigh falls from her mouth as she slowly shuts the lids of her round eyes. Belladonna may have been in the living room, but her mind was far off to a time only some minutes ago; Belladonna knew her irritation went further than simply failing to fix the metal circle from her piece of clothing. When recalling the events of the day, the guilt and shame that had been buried deep within the confines of Belladonna’s heart arose from the ashes like a phoenix and festers beneath every part of her being.  
If she hadn’t been such an odd hobbit, maybe others in the Shire would have viewed her differently instead of being quick to turn on her and assume she was an omen of bad luck; if she wasn’t the feisty-spirited woman that she was, her family wouldn’t be in this awful position and Belladonna, whom was once proud of her uniqueness, immediately feels contrition as she thinks about who she was born to be. The scrutiny pours over Belladonna and consumes her until she soon finds herself sinking beneath the weight of her negative feelings, barely able to breathe or think in the process of suffocating.  
Belladonna, for once, truly didn’t know what to do.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The ordeals of the day leaves Bungo as a mixture of emotional ingredients: for a passing second, Bungo can be distressed, and then solemn the next; and, he has no way of controlling any of it.  
Exhaustion from Bungo’s inner turmoil begins to nibble away at him, picking piece by piece off of his fatigued figure; and, he could’ve sworn that, if he had not already been resting in the rolling chair seated behind the desk in his studies, he would have surely withered away on the cold wooden floor boards.  
Bungo wheels his chair to a ninety degree angle and discontinues the process when he’s facing towards the front slanted surface of the studies’ desk. Flipping through parchments of paper that were stacked on top of the table, Bungo grips the quill in his left hand, peppers the tip in the bottle of black ink, and begins writing the lengthy will; all their possessions that were residing in Bag End’s cozy panels, and Bag End itself, would have to be under the care of one their relatives, whom said guardian in question would have to be contemplated on thoroughly.  
When Bungo initiated the process of leaving behind Bag End’s items, the image of his garden masked his view and it became all he could process at the moment. Bungo was shattered enough as it was to give up Bag End, which has been noted that he had worked effortlessly to perfect for Belladonna’s courting gift, but to surrender his precious garden that he had put forth so much of his time and tender care made Bungo hollow inside; he adored his backyard field: the flowers that he had transplanted not too long ago were fairing quite well for the difference in climate temperate; the hydrangea were blossoming beautifully under the bright sunny sky; and, the most valued floral life amongst the garden, which was Bungo’s herbal plants that were arranged from same species to different types and different species to same types, were growing steadily and beautifully.  
Envisioning the palace outside seems to be able to glue back some pieces of Bungo’s cracked heart, but the damage is far more serious than what the comforts of his cherished treasure could bring to him. Inhaling a burdened sigh, Bungo slowly exhales and became ensnared by images of his son’s tears and his wife’s cold, blank stare.  
The Thaín’s judgement of banishment had split his family in two, destroying everything they created; and, Bungo feels absolutely powerless to stop it. Incapable of being able to heal his family’s wounds, Bungo is utterly useless, and it takes the very last act of will that he has to contain the tears threatening to fall out of his hazel-brown eyes. Deciding that, if he cannot be of any other use to his family, he will continue with setting the written will in place, so he resumes his work from before.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The day was coming to an end for the folks of the Shire, as the moon was preached high in the west sky and the horizon was ablaze with the fire of the morning sun. Although the lingering news of the sighted wolves was still present in the village of Hobbiton, most hobbits went about their ordinary routine and all were highly content in the comforts of their smials-all except the trio of Bag End.  
Inside, Belladonna is leisurely rocking in her chair and warming under the warmth of the burning fire wood; Bungo, concluding the epilogue of the will, rushes out of his studies and begins explaining the deeds of paper to his wife, whom was straining to listen closely as Bungo chips away at each topic. 

“The contract states that under no circumstance will the Sackville-Baggins inherit any part of Bag End, and that all is left to my other distant relatives: Fosco Baggins and Ruby Bolger,” Bungo chirps away at the list, hoping his part in the will will ease Belladonna’s mind. “I’m also allowing the Gamgee’s, our delightful neighbors, to have a part in taking care of my garden, so it can continue to grow wonders when we…” 

Bungo’s little spur of glee turns sour at the thought of their departure, which forces his current sentence to fade away as Belladonna sends him an understanding look.  
“Right. Well,” Bungo clears his throat and continues. “I’m glad you understand.” 

He carries on explaining the major characters of the will and briefly subjected the minor ones into the conclusion of the written paperwork tour. Just as Bungo finishes his explanation, Bilbo slips silently in to the space and patters softly towards the half-circled couch engraved into the back wall of the living area. He nods his head to acknowledge his parent’s presence in the room before Bilbo settles himself into the cushioned furniture as silence envelopes the room; Bilbo, still despising that raw silence, shoots a hasty glance at his parents, whom were watching him with somber eyes, and swallows the lump forming in his parched throat.

“Do you,” Bilbo initiates the conversation. “Do you know when we will have to pack up and head out?” 

He knows that neither he nor his parents want to ponder their predicament, but he’d go mad if he drowned himself in that wretched silence any longer.  
Belladonna and Bungo share eye contact before Belladonna speaks up, her voice raspy and cracked.

“Sometime in the morning; just after Second Breakfast,” Bilbo considers the prospect for a moment or two before he deliberately presses on with the conversation.

“Where will we be staying?” Maybe Bilbo had already gone insane. If anyone would have questioned him for his choice of topic, he wouldn’t have the words to answer because he couldn’t understand himself at this point in time. Perhaps, though, it was the fear digging itself deep into Bilbo’s grieving heart and he needed the reassurance that it’ll all be okay.  
Bungo places the paper held in his hand on the flat surface of the circular wooden table, Belladonna mirroring his actions with her sewing set, and both adults float out of their respective positions to set out towards the furniture Bilbo rests upon. Once each parent took their place on the fluffy couch, Belladonna asserts the plan she and Bungo had conversed about before he proceeded to go through the parchment of paper. 

“We were thinking that Rivendell would be our best chance of a comfortable living home,” The conveyed words from Belladonna made Bilbo’s head shoot up with hopeful anticipation, the fear from earlier immediately depleting to be replaced with merry at the idea of staying in one of the last homely homes once again. After a pause, Bungo picks up where Belladonna stopped.

“However, as you already realize, the trip to Rivendell will take time, which will cause us some delay along the way,” Bungo’s tone was heavier than his wife’s, but Bilbo could not detect any sadness or distain at their established plan. “This will require having to occasionally stop at inns, refill the goods we used, and be very careful with how we spend the little bit of coins we have. Thankfully, we do not have to buy the wagon or pony that will be carrying us and our belongings; but, the bag of change, which will be given to us from the Thaín, will only be used for emergencies, and we do well to remember to bring bedrolls in case we have to sleep outside.” 

With Bungo’s speech is completed, he leans back on the wall situated behind him and allows his son to run through the strategy they agreed upon, relieved at the sight of Bilbo’s smile as he nodded his head in understanding. Belladonna, who was warmed inside by her darling boy’s wonderful smile, shifts in her seat and lingers softly back to the exchange.

“Bilbo,” When Bilbo hears his mother whisper his name, he steers his head and locks eyes with Belladonna as she urges on with her words. “We are all going to miss our beloved Shire dearly; and, I know this may not be easy for you, leaving Bag End and all, but I want you to remember everything will turn out alright in the end.” 

At the end of her sentence, Belladonna reaches out her hand and cups Bilbo’s hands within her delicate grasp.  
A smile, which she grants her son, makes its way onto Belladonna’s face, as the sparks of happiness shine from her eyes; Bilbo couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his mother’s gleeful posture.

“I know mother, I know,” Bilbo’s eyes dart everywhere in contemplation of his forming thoughts and widening with hope as his next words fall from his lips. “I will mourn for what we leave behind, Bag End especially; this was our roof, our stability, and the very place I was raised all my life. Giving it up is going to one of my hardest challenges.”  
Bilbo pauses, directing eye contact between his parents before proceeding on with his rehearsed speech. “However, I realize that it already has been a gift enough to have lived in Bag End as I have, and the memories I have gained from living here are warm enough to keep even the harshest of winters away. Although I refer to our smial as home, I know that home is not a place but wherever my heart is; and, my heart is wherever my family is.” 

Bilbo pats his mother’s hand with the one resting on top of his mother creamy-colored hand and gives both Bungo and Belladonna a wide smile that, to Belladonna and Bungo, was even more precious than Bag End itself.  
The conversation Bilbo had introduced became lighter in tone, as each of the trio conversed about their sooner-than-expected adventure, and soon the hours ticked away until bedtime arrived. Once all the hobbits among Bag End tucked into the beds of their respective rooms, their minds, which had finally been at peace, relaxed before drifting off as an easy, restful sleep found them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here is chapter 3, lovely ladies and gentlemen! I wanted to really get the feels out there because I wanted you to personally get to see how the trio was feeling inside and every story has got to have dem feels. The feels by the way, there are more to come in the next chapter. ooo, I bet you'll be surprised what's coming next.
> 
> Don't worry, I'll have that up as soon as it's beta'd and I promise the worse is yet to come. ;3


	4. An Unexpected Journey

The pounding of many feet’s across Bag End’s floorboards signaled the family was awake and in quite a rush, too. The sun had just said its good mornings through the sight of dawn, and Bag End was a beehive: packages of items were being carefully wrapped and situated on Belladonna’s and Bungo’s side in the wagon, official papers were being delivered, farewells yet to be passed on, and much more. 

Zipping past Bilbo, whom had just finished first breakfast with a hearty meal, Belladonna and Bungo gathers up boxes of items, and then zooms out the front door to unload their belongings in the wagon; the wagon and pony, Bilbo notes, had arrived expectantly early by approval of the Thaín, who even went as far as to buy it all himself and bid the family his good-byes when he came to the gates of their smial earlier that sunrise. 

Belladonna, although she loves her father dearly, was not on good terms with the Thaín after the perils of yesterday afternoon, and she had been frank about her feelings of distress with quick glances of disdain towards the Thaín when he had come loaded with the goods he promised. 

Bungo, on the other hand, had dismissed his wife’s unrespectable actions, greeted the Thaín with as much hospitality as he could, and exchanged his good-byes as well. 

Bilbo, at that time, had been hesitant to converse with his grandfather, sticking to containing himself within the living area of Bag End, but he had said his dues when it had come time for the Thaín to return to his own smial. 

After the Thaín had left, the quiet household of Bag End was once again in utter disarray. Bilbo, amused by this fact, reflected on the many times the Thaín’s visit would end in chaos in the Baggins family, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped from his pale pink lips. 

‘I suppose we aren’t the only bad omens around here,’ Bilbo concedes as he entertains himself with the new discovery made, but he was soon knocked out of his thoughts when Bungo races past him to enter his studies. 

Straightening himself up, Bilbo proceeded to make an image of his surroundings and found he was lazing about in the middle of the hall leading right towards the front circular door of Bag End. Not wanting to be in the way of his parents current focus, Bilbo wanders away from the door and rotates from corner to corner until he made a stop by the wooden frame of the door to his room in their esteemed smial and decided he would bathe in the familiarity of his resting place one last time. 

Wandering around inside, Bilbo found his small room to be bare of the brown boxes he stashed his belongings in last night and the elements that were left were the furniture of Bag End itself. Having already released the packages inside the wagon, Bilbo wasn’t surprised to be met with a room seemly devoid of all life, but some parts of empty room still left Bilbo with a slight dull ache in his chest. 

Slight or not though, Bilbo wasn’t going to let his emotions control him as he had done the day before; so, picking his head up, he held his chin high and basked in his most treasured memories with a sunny smile spread upon his bright face. 

Once done, Bilbo exited the space and strolled through the halls until he stumbled upon the window, which had a clear view of the many relatives waiting outside Bag End.

“No doubt to give their good praises and bid them farewell,” Bilbo silently acknowledges.

Bilbo scatters around Bag End in search of the bathroom mirror and, when he finally comes upon the intricate object, he reviews his appearance to make it presentable for his family; although Bag End was not going to be their home anymore, they still were to be well-mannered hosts for their guests, and, since the guests were relatives, the situation’s demand for appropriate appearances increased. Bilbo, done worrying over the small flaws of his outfit, approves of his reflection in the wide oval mirror and steps out into the halls to head for the front side of their smial. 

With each step taken, Bilbo becomes more anxious to see his cousins, Drogo and Primula, along with the rest of his large family, but a trace of the blues was also present in Bilbo’s anxious, gentle heart. He honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be strong enough to face the heartbreak of the good-byes from them all, the prospect made the whole notion seem dismal once more, but Bilbo was not weak; and, if he could face the hazardous road with his mother, he could face the dreaded farewells as well.

Bilbo, being lost in his thoughts, didn’t realize he was already approximately a few inches away from the entrance door of Bag End, and, when he finally did break from his consuming emotions, he unclicked the hatch and pushed the light round door open. Surprise filled Bilbo’s every being as Drogo and Primula captured him in a bear hug just as he was taking his first steps out of the smial. The air in Bilbo’s lungs left him, and he found himself struggling to breathe from his cousin’s course of actions; it took every last bit of Bilbo not to scream out from such an overbearing hug.

“P-Primu—la, Dro-go” Bilbo hisses softly, barely able to speak from the lack of oxygen in him. 

They both stare up at him, a mournful expression plastered on their faces, and bitterness openly displayed in their eyes until they rapidly released their cousin from their hug once they saw his pale face turning blue from asphyxiation; when released from their lion’s grip, Bilbo falls to his knees, scrambles to breathe in the most air that he could, and focuses on getting his heart rate under control. 

Primula and Drogo shares a long pitiful look of sorrow before helping Bilbo from the ground after he had his breathing under control and murmurs a million apologies in advance. Bilbo, although not unfazed from the recent event, readily regained his composure and halts the two in their apologies that were already enough in number to drown him. 

“Primula, Drogo,” He spoke with a polite yet forward tone, glancing at them as he said their names. “it’s alright. I understand why you did what you did, and I’m not angry at you for it. In fact, it’s nice to know I’ll be greatly missed.” 

Smiling, Bilbo eases his friends troubles and notices his parents conversing with his other relatives in the background. Snip bits of smiles flashed across their faces but whirled around into a solemn frown the next; Bilbo had a feeling he knew what they were rambling about to cause such mixed emotions and wasn’t sure if he wanted to proceed on the idea at the moment himself. 

Primula and Drogo, whom had now oddly quieted themselves in front of Bilbo, squirmed on the steps of Bag End while refusing to meet the forest colored eyes of their cousin. Bilbo, who had been taking notes of his surroundings, kept close attention on Primula’s and Drogo’s skittish postures with a curious gleam in his eyes, and his mind boggled at what could possibly be frightening them so until Primula finally retreated her hand from fiddling the curls in her hair and expressed their issue. 

“Bilbo, we…” Primula stops, smiles at her cousin rather wistfully and nudges Drogo to continue her sentence. They had a silent conversation, Drogo pointing a finger at himself with a shocked expression and Primula mouthing the words, “yes.” 

Bilbo laughs at their antics and can’t help think the word, “couple,” in his head but shakes himself out of his inner reality when Drogo clears his throat and conveys the fallen words.

“We are going to miss you-a lot. More than the cookies in the cookie jar on top of the fireplace,” Primula, mouth agape, slowly turns to stare at Drogo with a mortified expression, but Bilbo just roars with laughter, amusement clear in his voice; his body trembles as he’s overcome in fits of chuckles, which gives Drogo the strength to press on with his speech.  
“And, no matter what anyone said, we do love you a lot. You’re our favorite cousin out of all our relatives with your bright sunny demeanor and witty remarks. Please, do write to us; we’d love to hear about all your adventures in the outside world, and, maybe one day, we will see each other again.” 

Bilbo, having halted his actions from before, bit the inside of his check and felt the hot sensation of water build up in the back of his eyes. He successfully manages to blink away the tears, but it did little to none to relieve the heartbreak his core was spewing; and, Bilbo gathers all the grit he has in his fragile state to keep ahold of himself, something that would’ve surely fallen apart if not for his restraint. 

Primula, whom had heard every word till the end, holds a somber appearance and notices the change in Bilbo after the speech had ended. Though not wanting to further rain on the once cheery atmosphere, Primula grabs hold of Bilbo’s still hand with her own and maintains eye contact with his as she whispers her farewells.

“Bilbo,” Tears glisten in the morning sun as they roll down Primula’s face, forcing her to choke out the last bit of her sentence. “Bilbo, never forget about us, please, because we will never forget about you. Even if you aren’t here, even if we can’t see each other, you will always be close to our hearts and in our memories forever. I don’t want you to go, but I can’t change fate. Just promise me, Bilbo, that you’ll always remember us even when the road gets tough.” 

Primula’s dialogue finished out but the inner turmoil for the trio was at an all-time high, and Bilbo scarcely sputters out his next words.

“I-I promise Pr-Primula,” Prim smiles with joy and sadness mixed in one and engulfs Bilbo in a comforting embrace that he was all too willing to return. 

Drogo, whom also had tears sprinkling down his pale cheeks, asserted himself in the hug and wept along with Primula, whom was muffling her sounds in Bilbo’s shirt. With the emotional atmosphere around Bilbo, his wall of valor tore down and he, too, cried in the hug bestowed upon him by his treasured friends. 

Belladonna and Bungo noticed the exchange the trio on Bag End’s steps were creating, and they felt all mixtures of emotions, from happiness to melancholy, when viewing the embrace the trio shared for a moment in time; but, the couple returns their focus on putting up the gifts given to them by their family once the three broke away from the hug. 

Bilbo, wiping away the salty sweat from his eyes, gives both the hobbits in front of him a nod and hurriedly whispers good-bye as he makes his way over to the rest of the relatives; parting from them with good-byes and praises, Bilbo hops into the cart part of the wagon and patiently waits for his parents to settle in themselves but not before he gives one last glance to Bag End with a rather sorrowful expression. Everything stills in Bilbo’s perspective as the wagon was pulled away from their family and home. He continues on staring in the direction of Hobbiton even as they trek a path out of the area, and it wasn’t until the Shire grew far out into the distance that Bilbo furrows his brows and then heaves in a breath of stale air.

‘Well,’ He thinks, crawling towards the bag where he put the Sindarin tome as well as a few other booklets in. ‘perhaps Yavanna will smile upon us this time and something good shall come out of this unexpected adventure.’ 

But Yavanna wasn’t smiling on them now, nor will she for the years to come.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Stranded in a thicket forest, the company of four were surrounded on all sides by towering pine trees, which loomed on forever into the evening sky, and bushes that spun throughout the sides of the stone pathway. Silent but not desolate, the hordes of trees were bathed in life, from the crawling of the squirrel on the bark to the elk grazing the grassy moss; birds sang a peaceful tune under the branches, creating a musical tone that resonated far within the field of trees, and the thunderous wind whipped through the soothing air, shaking the limbs of the overgrown towers in the process. 

For the most part, everything was serene from the likes of which Bilbo never thought possible, and some part of Bilbo seemed to speak to the shrouding blanket of comfort that wrapped itself around the floral life. Settled upon the temperate panel floors of the wagon, Bilbo had crisscrossed his skinny legs to lay the tome on while he skimmed over the worn pages of the fashioned paper; but, he had completely forgotten about the edition as he became enraptured by the rich view of the graceful forest bed. 

Belladonna, whom chose to rest in the wagon, paid close attention to the way Bilbo rustled his head about to soak in as much as he could of the area they traveled through and felt a bit of content soothe her bruised soul as her son introduced a smile to the intricate world. The suns light drove its way into the sprouted limbs of the trees, casting a shadowy gaze upon the bottom of the forest, and Bilbo found his curiosity to be all but sedated for the fragile beauty that encircles him. Bilbo, although forming a connection with the area around him, heard his father mumble out a few words to the duo behind him, and he snaps his gaze to where his father lay abed on Myrtle’s back. 

“There’s a little village a few distances out of the Shire with old-fashioned style stone homes, and it’s got an inn where we could stay for the night,” Belladonna replies, taking a glance in Bungo’s direction before gazing off in the distance of the fielded trees until she spoke up again. “However, that will take possibly a few more hours; give or take, I’d say 8 more, and it’s already beginning to set. It’s dangerous to sleep outside, as many dark things crawl in the blackened fall, but it’d be suicide to journey through any longer after night has appeared.” 

After Belladonna voices her advice, Bilbo remembers the dangers that his mother had recalled to him, which arises the developing anxiety in Bilbo’s heart and his hand absent mindedly grips the tip of the dagger, strapped to his thin waist, granted to him by Belladonna so he could protect himself on their road to Rivendell. As Bungo and Belladonna executed a schedule of what they plan to do, Bilbo shook his horrifying thoughts away and inhaled the freshly scented earthly air before eyeing the horizon sun that was dying out to bring with it the long eerily mute night.

FEW HOURS LATER 

The hours drag on and the traveling company later found the stars of midnight to be the only friend in the dark abyss that ringed around them for miles on end; wood was unloaded from the wagon cradling their supplies like a baby, staked into the center circle of the oddly shaped cliff and lit ablaze from the matches produced by one of Belladonna’s bags.

Bilbo unleashes his bedroll, searches for his favorite blanket that his mother had made for him, and sets his unfinished book upon the mattress of his sleeping place before gathering around the fire to wait out the time for the boiling stew to be cooked. Bilbo, scanning the sights enveloped around him, could only think how so much had changed in so little time and how this journey would inevitably remodel the lives of everyone in this camp. Bilbo wasn’t sure what to feel at this present of time: he was afraid, but he also yearned in anticipation for unclear future down his path, which Bilbo was uncertain whether it’d be comforting at all; however, Bilbo could not change the past, so all he could do is muster up the most bravery he can find and walk down the direction fate has pushed him in with hope for better days to come. 

It takes only a few seconds for Bilbo to be drawn out of his thoughts, that seems to preoccupy him wherever he goes, and realize that the stew was ready for devouring; so, Bilbo flung his woolen cover off of him and skedaddled to the bowl of stew that Bungo was pouring in a wooden bowl for him. The piece felt weird in Bilbo’s soft hands, as he had become so used to his silverware at Bag End that he almost didn’t recognize he had made his way back to his not so comfortable bedroll and was staring at the raging fire a few feet in front of him. 

Rolling himself away from dozing out, Bilbo regaines consciousness and sends a hasty smile towards Belladonna and Bungo, whom were looking at their son with concern etched on their face. Bilbo, saddened by the prospect of his food growing lukewarm, finally ate his fill and handed the round bowl back towards Belladonna, who washed and laid the conjoined bowls inside the wagon. 

After their dinner had been eaten, the company began to snuggle up in their small but delectable bedrolls and tried vigorously to sleep the night through; although both his parents managed to eventually find comfort, Bilbo couldn’t find the comfortable position or strength to rest and chose to glance upon the stars that twinkled in the black sky. A few moments later found Bilbo finally drifting off to sleep but not before feeling the cold rush of chaotic wind brush past him, sending a deadly chill up his spine.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Much to Bilbo’s disappointment, Myrtle led the wagon and its crew out of the forest he had become entranced with the morning after. Heaving each step on the borders of the tree infested field carefully, Bilbo basked in the pleasure of the memory of the beautiful forest and watched the little reminder of home fade away into the growing distance. 

The horde soon sailed their way onto green hill plains that stretched farther from their position on the road and navigated in the direction of the little village spoken of yesterday afternoon; along the excursion through trees, plains, and rocky slopes, the clear blue sky of the morning rise turned into a splatter of grey heavy rain clouds and closed off the remaining light from the awakening sun. 

Introducing not only the harsh slap of rain, the clouds above the company roared with thunder, which made their wagon wobble each time, and the trio rushed to bundle themselves in the leather, tattered rain coat left for them by one of their relatives, whom they thanked dearly for. Bilbo, having put the novel back where it would be safe from the crashing of the rain, desperately held onto the wooden horizontal planks in the four corner of the wagon so as not to topple out of the rocking cart, and he mentally prayed to Yavanna when his parents made a sharp turn into the little village nestled next to a small stream and partnered by a few tall trees. 

The gate gloomed over the company as they trekked under it, and Bilbo could hardly make out the designs carved into the stone wells, which wrapped themselves around the bottom ends of the gate, due to the thicket of raindrops. The town view wasn’t much better; Bilbo struggles to squint his eyes enough to get a tiny reflection of the buildings and people that paraded around him until his muscles ached from holding the weight of his figure for too long, so he threw out the idea entirely. 

The wagon tips to the left a little but hastily reverses its position back to the middle; the notion had caused Bilbo to sway harshly from side to side as he rested back down, and the rocking cradle made Bilbo’s stomach clench tighter. Feeling sick, Bilbo urges himself to relax as best as he could in the sea of shaking, and he was grateful when the wagon stopped as it halted in front of one of the inns in the town. 

The inn, Bilbo thought, was dented around the center, which caused the structure to lean a little more to the right, giving it a scary vibe; and, the storm above made it all the more frightening, but Bilbo didn’t pay too much attention to it after he climbed out of the cart and gathered his belongings before heading inside the delectably warm building. 

Trudging through the door, Bilbo was met with the sight of a few round tables scattered around the far end of the wall and the inn keeper’s desk was situated at the front wall with two staircases leading up towards the second floor on each side. Bilbo fiddles with the bags in his moist hands and waits at the closest table for his parents to make their way into the inn; soon enough, Belladonna and Bungo swiftly came in with a few of their own items. 

Bilbo shoots up from his hardened seat, which was now wet from the rain on his coat, and slowly walks over towards the duo, whom were at the counter conversing with the rather stout, rowdy person. After handing a few pieces of coins from their belongings and inking down their names in the booklet as instructed too, the trio wandered away from the rectangular table and dashed up the staircase to the left. 

Once up the creaking stairs, the trio came to face a narrow, thin hallway with many doors aligned on their left side. As they began stepping past door after door, they finally ended their parade when they arrived at the door of their room. Bungo, giving Belladonna and Bilbo a brief glance, fumbles with the key in his hand, which slipped through the cracks of his fingers each time from the moisture covering his hands; and, a few attempts later, Bungo was finally able to push the ordinary key inside the hole of the knob to unlock the hatches. Nudging the wooden jarred door open, the trio paced inside the room and rapidly threw off their rain drenched coats. 

 

The room was small in size with two beds aligned on each side of the beige painted wall, which were exactly across from one another. There was a large rectangular window set on the front ends of the beds that could be retracted on its side to let the rainy air come in, and a simple desk laid on the end of the right side bed and carried a candle lit upon its worn surface. 

Bilbo scrunched his nose up in distaste and Bungo did the same, but, although they didn’t approve of the dusty room, they both knew that they would just have to make do with what was given to them for now. Bilbo, rummaging through his white sack, pulled out the booklet he had been skimming through along their ride to this peculiar town and laid it to rest upon the thin woolen covers of the inn’s beds; Bilbo ruled that first, he would get himself cleaned up-being so dirty from the mud that splashed everywhere when coming through the gates-and grabs the reminiscent of clothes he had as he slowly walks over towards the bathroom door. 

Closing the door behind him, Bilbo assesses himself in the surprisingly clear mirror and found he was recognizable even under all the debris, but he still decided to take a warm bath anyway. Bilbo patters over to the bathtub that, considering the size of the room, wasn’t very big and turned the silver, eight limbed knob in order to get the water flowing through. Once the water showered down to the tub, Bilbo stripped himself naked, left his clean and old clothes on the sink, and proceeded to hop inside the tub. 

The water that had rained down upon Bilbo’s matted skin was lukewarm, but Bilbo didn’t mind as long as it washed away the remains of the dirt on his pale figure. Climbing out of the small tub, Bilbo swipes at the towel hanging upon the rake next to the shower curtains and wipes himself dry before he clothes himself once more. Traipsing out the bathroom, Bilbo, whom was now dressed in thick clothing, got into the bed on the left side and patched himself into his blanket; reaching out for his album, Bilbo thoroughly scans the room for his parents and found them whispering a conversation to each other. 

Bilbo, not wishing to intrude, squirms into a comfortable position so he could resume his story, but, just then, Belladonna gradually rises from her seat, searches through her bags for some clothes, and gives Bilbo a hearty smile before containing herself in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, Bilbo realizes he’s becoming more and more depleted of energy as he calms into the soft mattress he laid upon; so, Bilbo curves the end corner of the page he was reading, snaps the book shut, and reclines its place under his bed. Flipping himself over on his side, Bilbo faces the wall in front of him and feels his eyelid droop as he hurls his mind away from reality.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It’s the rough, hasty shaking of his body, the sound of crashing of furniture upon the paneled floors, and the blood curling screams that makes Bilbo shoot up in absolute fear. 

The first thing he notices is his mother’s horrified face, which was close to his own; her clothes are ruined and in a complete mess, and her sword is unsheathed, where it lay resting on the side of the bed Bilbo slept upon. Looking around, Bilbo notices the chaos ensuing around him, for everything in the room was smashed and torn: there were shrieks of bone-chilling demands outside, and buildings besides them were being caught ablaze with fire. 

Bilbo pales; his insides are crawling with fear, his heart is pounding with despair, and his mind is initiating a complete shut down until his mother brings him back by a harsh slap nestled upon his left cheek. Bilbo, although not wishing to do anything but become nothing more than ash, feels the hot sting on his reddened cheek and forces himself to tie his mind into the cruel reality he wanted so desperately to run away from. 

Belladonna cups her son’s panicked-stricken face, wiping away the tears that rolled out of his widened eyes with her thumb, and tries to keep Bilbo’s focus on her next words.

“B-Bilbo,” Her dry throat cracks her voice, anxiety and worry mixed in with her horse tone. “Yo-you have to run. No-now. There are O-orcs raiding the village-”

Before she can complete her thought, Bilbo begins thrashing his head around in an attempt to truly run away, but Belladonna, using a bit of her strength, tightens her grip on Bilbo’s cheek and repeatedly tells him to gather himself for it wasn’t the time to be losing his mind. Bilbo’s thrashing soon dissipates, along with the little bit of energy he had stored up, but his body was still trembling in abhorrence and his whole being dreaded having even woken up into another nightmare-ish hell. 

Belladonna, after noticing her son calm down from his fight, holds his chin up with her index finger and stares him dead in the eyes as she resumes where she left off. 

“I know this is scary for you,” Belladonna pauses, reaching out her blood-stained hand and running her fingers through the curls of Bilbo’s hair. “but you have to remain strong now, Bilbo, for me and your father.” 

Belladonna’s eyes lower as her voice becomes softer, which was an odd thing to see in the insane background of shouting, before she returns her gaze to his with a solemn expression plastered over her face. Her hand is still combing through his hazel-brown curls, soothing Bilbo a little, but she retracts her hand and straightens herself up to an authoritative figure before the rest of the her ideas fall from her pale lips.

“You need to carefully go down those stairs, be sure not to make a sound as you do, and head out to the stables across from us. Myrtle and the wagon will be there waiting for you,” Although Bilbo was terrified in the circumstances, he wasn’t just going to sit back and leave his parents behind; so, with the bravery growing inside him, Bilbo shoots up from the bed, covers falling to the floor as he did, and shakes his head vehemently. 

“No, Mother; I won’t leave you here. I know how to defend myself in this situation, and I’m not going to let you go in this alone,” When Bilbo’s mind was set, he wouldn’t budge until it went his way and his mother knew this well, for she sighs heavily and then rubs her face in irritation. 

“Well, I suppose I cannot change your mind, but stay by my side, okay? And if I tell you to run away, you listen to it. Now, let’s go find your father,” Belladonna, once done with her speech, breaks eye contact with her son, picks up the sword by its hilt again and watches as her son does the same with his small dagger, which he produced from his bag that he had flung over his shoulder. 

When the duo was set, they slipped silently into the nightmare faring outside and were utterly shocked at the amount of blood sprayed across the wooden walls of their building as well as the fronts of each structure in the town; it makes them both sick, their stomachs beginning to fight in protest, but each swallowed down their misgivings and dashed into the deathly twilight. 

 

Bilbo and Belladonna were just making their way out of the inn, which was now in a mess from the orc raid, when they heard Bungo cry out in pain near the stables outside, and they both feared the worse. Dashing in the direction of the stables, the duo came upon the sight of Bungo backed up against the wall of Myrtle’s stable, as red liquid trickled down his temple from the blow he received from the hideous orc inching forward to finish the business; but, Bilbo was not just going to stand there all to watch his father perish before his own eyes.

Belladonna tries to stop her son, racing after Bilbo towards the dire situation, but Bilbo was too lost in his focus to care about his safety or reply to his mother as he collided with the orc’s body, knocking them through the stable wall, which shattered into a million pieces from the weight of the bodies, and proceeded to take out his dagger, which he drove straight into the heart of his father’s tormenter over and over. 

The black liquid splatters all over Bilbo’s nicely clean clothing and droplets fall upon his face, which was furrowed into a disgusting frown until he releases the metal tip of the dagger from the Orc when he feels the body grow cold. His muscles ached from using most of his vitality on pulling the dagger from the now limp being, causing him to stumble back and slip on the muddied ground beneath Bilbo’s feet. 

The rain, pouring down harder than when they entered the village, was washing a small amount of the blood painting Bilbo red away towards the squishy ground he had fallen upon; but, Bilbo doesn’t have the time to indulge in the tiny bit of cleansing as more orcs come along and trap them in a circular enclosure around the stables. 

Bilbo, cramping his numb fingers on the hilt of the dagger, holds his posture from the invading intruders and flexibly dodges most of the attacks thrown at him; however, as his vision was captured into the clash of weapons with him and the orc uncomfortably close to him, a white warg sneaks slowly towards Bilbo’s side and, just as he brings down his foe by penetrating his heart, Bilbo, who kept losing his balance a few times after his dagger plunged into the orc, was ensnarled on his left side as the warg pounced forward and gripped Bilbo in his jagged teeth. 

Bilbo hurls in pain, thrashing in agony as the teeth crunch down upon his shoulder blade and dislocate the bone; and, then the warg proceeded to shake Bilbo’s moving figure side to side before the white creature threw him across the street towards an alleyway between two abandoned buildings. The air in his lungs had already left him during the monstrous attack, but as he hit the ground with such ferocious force, he could’ve sworn his ribcage cracked a little under the pressure; and, from the stables, he hears the gut-wrenching cries of his parents fill the air. 

Bilbo struggles to remove himself from the ground, but the burn of his scars and bruises chained him to the dirt below; and, he watches in horror as a pale orc, etched with many battle wounds on his face and a sword for his left arm, approached his mother, who was ready to stand her ground with her sword pointed directly at him, and his father, who was dragging his numb side as he clenched a weapon in the other. 

“No…” he vainly tries to call out, the sound he was producing only ended in a whimpering moan of misery, but Bilbo, persistent as he was, pursued on with his attempts. Nervously snatching the hilt of the dagger in his palms, Bilbo again pushes his body off the ground and onto his bare feet only to curse the slippery ground as well his wounds when he could not, even for the life of him, put the weight of his figure steadily on his feet. 

Bilbo thought for a moment, deciding instead to crawl his way over to the scene of the fight that had broken out as he was beginning to get a little more oxygen back into his perished lungs, and prayed desperately to Yavanna that he would make it there in time. 

Belladonna’s weapon clashes with the pale orc’s sword, each blow causing the darkened sky to erupt with a laughter of thunder. The two were dancing around each other, the entirety of the showdown a repeat of dodge, slash, and clash until the orc, gripping hold of the mace he had settled next to him, smashed the piece upon Belladonna’s face and flew her a few feet in front of them. 

After witnessing the impact, Bilbo forces himself to hastily make his way over to his mother’s still yet fidgeting form, the shattered bones in his body sending waves of excoriating discomfort each time he squirmed his body forward; and, the blood from his injuries steadily seeps out of their sockets to slither down his skin as he moves, but, unfortunately, the pale orc had beaten him to her and positioned the tip of his blade in the center of her chest. 

Belladonna, in her last attempts, stretches her still useable hand over towards her side to find her sword was unreachable from the place she laid upon and closed her eyes as she took the last breaths she knew she would breathe. 

Bilbo is ready to shout out and slide his weapon across the distance of where they both lay but is again too late, for the pale orc rushes his sword-hand straight into Belladonna’s beating heart; and, she gasps from the excursion but soon fads into a still doll with lifeless eyes. 

Bilbo cannot believe the events that had unfolded, and it feels like time has stopped forever in that moment as his mother’s once living form turns into another corpse upon the field. Bilbo is absolutely traumatized but that did not halt the wet liquid from flowing rapidly from his eyes-liquid that didn’t come from the rainfall around them. 

It was a second later before a harsh metallic object crashed into Bilbo’s temple, knocking him unconscious and sending him far from the stinging cold of reality. Before he falls into a deep sleep, Bilbo sees, from the corners of his eyes, Bungo lifted from the ground by the choke hold on his lean neck and the colors drain from his face as another orc penetrates his chest.

Bungo’s body falls to the ground with a thud as the orcs let go of him and ride off into the path ahead of them that led out of the village.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Bilbo doesn’t know how long it had been since the orc raid had stopped when he rose from the dead with a throbbing pain in his head. His mind is too hazed to survey his surroundings, and the wounds he sustained screams throughout his whole body and makes him tremble under the agony; and, he could barely even use his left arm at all. 

The discomfort got worse as he wiggled to move his dead body around and soon elected to just lay in the muddied bed he faced to, hopefully, ease the injuries he had gained from the battle before. Whence coming upon the topic of the events of earlier ago, Bilbo suddenly shot up, ignoring the electric pulse of distress that ran through his body, and picks his body from the ground while using the wall next to him for support. He hazardously scans the sight around him, his vision and mind still a bit fogged from the ache of his wounds, as he inches forward a few centimeters at a time till he finally found a bit of balance and initiated a search party for his parents. 

He viciously hopes their deaths were all a dream, that the pale orc had never came, and that the hell that occurred was truly just a nightmare after all; but, he had seen it all happen, even the murder of his own parents, which he already wished to forget. Bilbo, however, could not deny it anymore as he took in his surroundings: the whole village was destroyed to complete ruin and was totally abandoned despite the bodies that littered the floor. 

The sight alone was enough for Bilbo to back away against the wall in utter dismay, but the smell of death that lingered in the air caused Bilbo to sicken more and hurl up the last bit of food he had left in his now empty stomach. Slinking down, Bilbo became frozen in place as the torture scene unfolded in front of him; but, what made Bilbo truly numb was the corpses that laid side by side of each other in front of the stables. 

Bilbo becomes drenched in a waterfall of tears as they streamed down his detached eyes, his body wrapping him in a comatose state, and he half-stood immobilized in place. Bilbo’s forest eyes never wavers from the two limp bodies a few spaces ahead of him, the icy silence growing with the dark night that blanketed around them, and he soon finds himself losing all his will to go on. 

A few moments in silent misery, Bilbo trudges pathetically over to the bodies of his parents and falls down onto his knees before slamming his fists on the muddied ground between them. The tears continue to fall out of his eyes and drop down to the area beneath him, the mud soaking up the liquid, as Bilbo flips onto his back, looking up at the black cover devoid of light while he tried to wither away with his parent’s bodies beside him. 

“They are truly gone,” Bilbo solemnly thinks. 

He will never be able to see Bungo’s cheery smile or hear Belladonna’s teasing remarks; there would be no other hand to hold, and soon Bilbo realizes that, in the end, there was nothing left to live on for. The knife, which Bilbo slips in his hand as he wanders around the desolate village, was now placed to the center of Bilbo’s chest, the pointed edge hardly a thin space between the body and itself, and he was ready to take his life right then and there; however, just as he makes to plunge the weapon through his heart, Bilbo recollects his thoughts on the situation that had occurred and he noticed an inquisition that makes his heart-wrench from the memories of how his parents died trying to preserve his life. 

Everything they fought hard for was for the people around them; they sacrificed their selves, and, after all they did, Bilbo was about to throw it all away as if it had meant nothing at all. Stricken with anger at his pervious actions, Bilbo digs the dagger in the mud that layers the ground, arises from his place, and drags his parent’s corpses one by one to the outskirt of the town. 

From there, Bilbo rummages around what was once a tiny village, set on finding a shovel and, when at least he finds one in a dusty shop, he progresses on scarping up the muddied grass into two burial coffins where he lays Bungo in the first rectangular cellar, fending off the pain torturing his body, and proceeded to do the same with Belladonna’s as he laid hers to rest in the one next to Bungo. Bilbo knew that he could not give them their so rightfully deserved parting to Yavanna’s gardens, but he still worked diligently to give his parents a burial even under his circumstances and reversed his actions with the mud that now was being put back to its original area. 

Once done with covering up the holes, Bilbo treks into the woods a few paces in front of him, snapping branches of flowers from the trees that grew them, and somberly pacing back towards the grounds where he buried their bodies to place the flowers on top of their covens. Before he did though, he prays quietly to Yavanna to bless the flowers he gripped so as to bring his parents peace as they entered her gardens; and, he softly began singing a lullaby that his parents had sung to him many a nights ago when his nightmares had woken him up from his miserable sleep. 

Once upon a midnight sky  
I held you close and never waved good-bye  
But alas, our dreams has ended  
And our fates untwine

Be strong, little one  
The road is cruel  
The time is short  
In your memories I shall forever remain

So, close your tired eyes  
Worry not for the rising dark  
And remember I am always near

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter 4 is beta'd and reviewed! Sorry for the wait guys. I do hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Criticism is accepted, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing and the quality of the story. Just try not to completely bash my work.

**Author's Note:**

> Aye, not my first story but my first fanfiction so try not to expect greatness. The story was an idea that had just popped into my idea after listening to "secret garden" by EmpathP (lovely song, you should go listen to it if you want) and my sister and I just rolled with it from there. My sister beta's my chapters, if they seem to really flow clearly then you have her to thank for that. I hope you enjoy the story! I certainly am thrilled to be writing it for my favorite OTP. Also, chapter 2 and 3 are done but chapter 3 needs to be beta'd first.
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho, thank you all for reading!


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